as he recognized his former captive. Eagerly he sprang forward to meet him.
Because of his unusual stature among his own people, Khamov was an equal match for Robert. In skill, with the saber, he was Robert's superior. Both men were fired by an intense passion, but Robert's wrath had the advantage of a righteous cause.
Warily they circled each other, the tempered blades clashing as they parried each other's vicious thrusts. In their furious aggressiveness, both men were quickly wounded, though lightly, several times. Their shuffling feet thrashed the loose sand into spume as they circled each other swiftly. Their breath whistled hoarsely in their throats as they lurched back and forth, each eager to cut the other down.
As their first fierce vigor became dulled somewhat by their terrific exertions, both men settled down to deliberate, crafty fighting, each keenly watching for an opening which might prove fatal to the other.
Robert was handicaped by his unfamiliarity with the saber. Fortunately he was a skilled fencer. Only his skill with the foils enabled him to parry the slashing attacks of his opponent.
His eluding of Khamov's furious attacks only enraged the latter the more. He was overtaxing his endurance. It began to dawn upon Robert that, if he could successfully withstand Khamov's attacks a little longer, he would soon have a big advantage over the berserk ruler.
His opportunity came unexpectedly. Missing his footing, he all but lost his balance. Quick to take advantage of his misfortune, Kharnov launched a terrific blow at him. Had it struck home it must surely have rent Robert in twain! Fortunately, however, it missed him—but narrowly. The tip of the razorlike blade whined through the air but a fraction of an inch from Robert's throat.
The delivery of this terrific swing momentarily unbalanced Khamov. Recovering at this moment, Robert lunged swiftly. Precipitated upon the blade partly by the unchecked force of his wild swing, Khamov was mortally wounded, the broad blade piercing his breast deeply. With a dreadful oath he dropped to the sand.
Robert quickly knelt at the emperor's side to render assistance. But it was clear to him at the first glance that the unfortunate man was done.
With a supreme effort Kharnov raised himself upon his elbow. His lips twitched as he tried to speak. Then suddenly he slumped back lifeless upon the sand.
Having convinced himself that the hapless man was beyond need of aid, Robert looked to his own wounds. The battle line had swept far ahead during their private struggle. He found himself unmolested and unaided.
His cheek was bleeding profusely, but the wound proved to be superficial. The cloth of his coat, too, was wet from a wound in his arm which pained him cruelly. An attempt to remove this garment resulted in a twinge of pain almost unbearable. He swayed faintly, gritting his teeth in an effort to retain his senses.
Once more he tried to take off his coat. His head swam. Then everything went black before his eyes.
Did the Sphere's occupants get back to Earth? Read
the thrilling concluding chapters next month.
